


smiles through sunlight

by professortennant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Philinda Secret Santa, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: Melinda May was used to the mundane dreariness of life–literally. Without her soul mate, all she saw was a scale of black, white, and dark blues, an eternally overcast sky. No sunshine, no warmth. And then she stumbled into Phil Coulson's teashop and everything changed.





	smiles through sunlight

Melinda May was used to the mundane dreariness of life–literally. Without her soul mate, all she saw was a scale of black, white, and dark blues, an eternally overcast sky. No sunshine, no warmth.

She remembered her mother and father dancing in the kitchen as a young girl, dancing amongst sunbeams she couldn’t see yet. Her father leaned down to ruffle her hair and tell her that she’d find the person who would one day dancing amongst the sunshine with.

That had been the last time her father and mother had danced. She still remembered her mother’s gentle sobs, the way she had begged for her father to miraculously return from the dead, the way she had begged for him to return to her, the way she had begged for the sunshine to come back.

Her mother had never been the same after her father died, always waiting for the sun–quiet and withdrawn, life become something to sludge through rather than enjoy. Melinda decided then and there at the age of eleven years old that she would be content with overcast dreariness. Better that than to have the sun and lose it.

Every day, Melinda woke up and pulled back the curtains to let in the blinding light she couldn’t perceive and applied sunscreen against harmful rays that she couldn’t see. The clouds, the grey skies, the monochromatic vision were all a price she was willing to pay to protect her heart.

There had been flickers of light in her lifetime. Andrew had been the brightest of them all and she had thought for a moment, just a moment, that maybe he was her sunshine. After he had kissed her the first time, she thought the clouds may have been clearing, the barest hint of sun peeking out from behind a grey sky. 

These flickers continued through their courtship and Melinda felt the urge to run every time Andrew looked at her like she was changing his world. (She worried she was changing his world. What would happen if he told her that she was his sunshine and she couldn’t see anything other than a dreary sky?)

But she loved him, in her own way, and perhaps this was the best path for her: a sunless life, yes, but a good life–a happy life. And then Andrew had come home one day and she knew it had changed for him. He looked around their tiny, shared apartment in wonder, his eyes wide and excited.

He had found his sunshine.

“I promise, Mel, you’ll find your soul mate. They’re out there and when you find them, you’ll just,” he broke off, sighing happily, thumb still absentmindedly rubbing the back of her hand. “You’ll just know. The clouds clear and everything is bright and light and just, more.”

He had kissed her cheek, packed his bags, and left. Just like that.

And Melinda May was left alone with her clouds once more, all flickerings of the sun and the light gone.

But Fate has a funny way of forcing itself on you, especially when you least expect it. On a blistery winter day, the wind howling in her ears and whipping across her cheeks, Melinda burrowed further into her coat, desperately wanting to drink her weight in hot tea and get out of the unseasonably cold weather.

Ahead of her, a sign read Sunbeam Bakery and she hurried into the shop seeking refuge from the wintery winds outside and being drawn in by the shop signs promising quite the selection of teas.

Stepping inside Sunbeam Bakery was like being bathed in a lover’s kiss–all warmth and soft colors. Surprisingly, no one was inside, not even staff. Small tables littered the shop, a bake case was filled to the brim with scones and biscuits and cakes (all flavored with the teas the shop sold), and every inch of the back wall was covered in tea tins. Earl grey, green, chai, ceylon, black, citrus–on and on the selection went and Melinda felt immediately at home.

This was a place of warmth and even through her dreary vision, she could almost feel the sunshine, the sunbeams, just as promised.

As she was selecting her tea of choice (a bright citrus green tea), when a rumbling voice praised her selection (”That was one of my mother’s favorites; excellent choice.”) from behind the counter and made her jump, turning and clutching the tin to her chest.

The man before her was handsome: kind eyes, lean body, brown hair, and a smile that Melinda would have happily done anything to make appear. His blue sweater was pushed up at the elbows and he leaned against the counter, grinning at her.

“I guess if I want to stay in business I should stop scaring the customers,” he said, waving her over to the counter so he could ring her up. He continued babbling at her and Melinda fought to keep a smile from her face as he introduced himself.

“I’m Phil, by the way, Phil Coulson.”

Melinda offered him a small smile of greeting and reciprocated. “Melinda May.”

Phil blinked at her, mouthing her name and nodding to himself. “Melinda May sounds like a fairytale name.” He blushed as if he realized what he’d said out loud and hurried on. “Sorry, uh–I just moved here and, well, it’s hard to get a good cup of tea around here and I thought I should supply the demand. Even if,” he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “I’m the only demand.”

Melinda couldn’t help but laugh at this and he beamed at the sound of her laughter. There was something, she decided, pleasing about the way he smiled. Something that made her want to lean close and brush her thumb over his bottom lip, something that made her want to wrap herself around him and protect him.

Her vision flickered and for a moment, she thought perhaps it was sunshine peering out from behind the clouds. But Phil shook his head too, peering up at the lights with a glare, and she decided the lightbulb must have simply flickered.

Melinda watched as Phil carefully measured out the loose leaf tea into an infuser and place it in a bone china cup–the same kind of cup her mother would use growing up.

“Why tea?”

He seemed startled at her question and she elaborated. “I just mean, it seems like the money is in coffee these days. So, why tea?”

Phil bit his lip for a moment in concentration as he poured the boiling hot water over the infuser and set the steaming cup in front of her. “My mother, actually.” He paused to set a timer for the tea steeping. “My father died when I was young and my mother was heartbroken when he died. They were soul mates, you know?”

There was such a sadness, a wistfulness, to his voice that Melinda had to fight the urge to reach across the counter and cover his hand with hers.

Phil continued, “Anyway, after my father died my mother would just sit at the window for days and days, like she was just looking for the sun. I didn’t know what to do, I was just a kid. But I could boil water and stick a tea bag in a cup and I may have been in an anglophile phase.” He blushed. “Peggy Carter was a bit of a hero of mine and the British always said a cup of tea cured anything so…”

The timer went off between them and Phil pulled the infuser out and gestured for Melinda to sit at the table by the window. He followed her from behind the counter, carrying her tea for her. She sat and fingered the rim of her cup, watching the steam spiral up, waiting for it to cool before she took a sip.

Phil stood before her, hands on his hips, and continued his story. “So, I brought my mother a cup of tea and she took a sip and she just looked at me, pulled me close, and told me that the cup of tea I made her was like sipping sunshine. I’d never been prouder. And I’ve been chasing that sunshine, that feeling for others, ever since.”

This time, Melinda didn’t fight the urge to cover his hand with hers–his story, so like her own upbringing, had moved her and that strange, overwhelming sense to protect this man flooded her.

She reached out and squeezed his hand, intending to offer comfort and sympathy.

As her fingers made contact with his skin, her vision erupted with light–blindingly bright, bursting through her dreary, grey vision. The sunbeams flooding into the shop, spilling over the table and her skin, suddenly was warm and she shivered at the sensation, overwhelmed.

Next to her, Phil was gasping, still clinging to her hand and looking around wildly.

“M-melinda? Are you seeing this?”

His voice was awestricken and Melinda stood on shaky legs, reaching for him, fingertips ghosting over his chest and jaw and nose and lips.

“You,” she gasped out, eyes teary. Bright, beautiful sunbeams cut across Phil’s face and Melinda couldn’t believe this man–this stranger–was her soul mate.

Phil grinned, pressing his face into Melinda’s touch. “And you,” he echoed, still wide-eyed and looking around.

She grinned at him, unbearably warm–in part from the sun heating her back and in part at the pleasant ball of heat that had formed in her stomach at the sight of him. Now that he was in full color and not dreary, monochrome she could see the brightness of his blue eyes, the gentle stubble at his chin, the enticing redness of his lips….

She grinned at him, “I guess that tea of yours really is like drinking sunshine.”

Phil laughed and his arms encircled her, pulling her close, amazed. “This is wild. You’re my soul mate. I met you five minutes ago and you’re mine. All mine.”

It was heady, the way he uttered mine and the way she didn’t flinch from it. Her heart seemed to echo back a strange response of Yours and she flattened her hands against his chest.

This man had brought the sunshine into her life, chased away the clouds and the grey, and for all that he was a stranger, she felt that she knew him deeply, intimately. Andrew’s words floated up through her mind: You’ll just know. The clouds clear and everything is bright and light and just, more.

Melinda tugged him by the hand and encouraged him to sit across from her, the single steaming tea cup sitting between them, their hands still linked atop the table. She offered him a small smile and squeezed his hand.

“So, Phil, tell me about yourself.”

And there, with their hands interlinked, and the sunshine streaming into their corner of the world, their story began.


End file.
